


11:59 PM

by mapotofu (owlbethere)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Deities, Happy Ending, Light Angst, M/M, POV Tsukishima Kei, kenma is a deity, tsukki has nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-18 12:54:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28867338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlbethere/pseuds/mapotofu
Summary: Kei, is that you? It’s me, Tetsurou.On a blank page in the small, red journal handed to him by a deity, Tetsurou’s scrawl tentatively appeared in black ink. It reminded Kei of that horrible book series he read when he was younger, of a girl who was charmed by a simple diary and poured her feelings into a malignant spirit.But this was Tetsurou, trapped in a journal without his consent.Tetsurou.What the fuck.The inanimate object seemed to emanate sheepishness, its pages quivering as the corners slightly curled up.Nothing good came out of messing with deities. Kei felt a headache coming because of his boyfriend’s antics.In which Kuroo gets turned into a journal, so Tsukishima makes a bargain with the deity Kenma to turn him back, the bargain being a 1,000-word story that Tsukishima has to deliver in a week's time.
Relationships: Kuroo Tetsurou/Tsukishima Kei
Comments: 4
Kudos: 59





	11:59 PM

**Author's Note:**

> with lots of love to my beta and dear friend, [hoelistic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoelistic), who encouraged me to finish this fic ^^ i couldn’t have done it w/o you
> 
> to my dear friend mii-chan, this is a very belated birthday gift for you. hope you enjoy :))
> 
> to all my readers, i wish you a happy new year!!

> Kei, is that you? It’s me, Tetsurou.

On a blank page in the small, red journal handed to him by a deity, Tetsurou’s scrawl tentatively appeared in black ink. It reminded Kei of that horrible book series he read when he was younger, of a girl who was charmed by a simple diary and poured her feelings into a malignant spirit.

But this was Tetsurou, trapped in a journal without his consent.

> Tetsurou.
> 
> What the fuck.

The inanimate object seemed to emanate sheepishness, its pages quivering as the corners slightly curled up.

Nothing good came out of messing with deities. Kei felt a headache coming because of his boyfriend’s antics.

In a world where deities walked among humans, it was important to show good manners. You never knew who could be a deity. It could be someone's childhood friend, a coworker, or simply a passerby. One could never know.

Deities wore human faces, ate human food, and spoke human languages. They blended into the sea of humanity. Some had short tempers, bringing forth disaster frequently. Others were mild and patient.

As it turned out, Tetsurou had pissed off a temperate deity who was visiting the same onsen as they were. Tetsurou's provoking words led to the deity transforming him into a small, red journal with a snap of his fingers.

And that was how Kei found himself sitting at the kotatsu across another deity, a deity who went by the human name 'Kenma.' They had an ageless face, supple skin with piercing golden eyes that belied their otherworldliness. They wore an oversized black hoodie that swallowed their small figure, long sleeves that usually hung over the fingers but were now pushed back midway to the elbows.

If Kei had not known before, he would have thought that Kenma was an ordinary person.

A freshly baked apple pie was laid on the table, an offering that Kei had brought for Kenma. The buttery smell filled the living room. Kei watched as Kenma devoured a large slice by themselves, their golden eyes crinkling in pleasure from the taste of apples and cinnamon.

It was silent except for the scrape of the fork, Kenma's munching, and in the background Kei could faintly hear the constant ticking from the clock mounted in the hallway. It clicked and clacked, a metronome to Kenma's chewing.

Kei sat and waited, his legs warmed up from the heater. He boxed away all the snark that came to mind because it wouldn't do to offend another deity. Patience was a necessity because time was trivial to immortals.

And Kei had to abide by the waiting game because Tetsurou's life depended on this.

When Kenma finally placed down his fork with a satisfied burp and looked at Kei flush in the eye, Kei opened his mouth to plea for his boyfriend's life.

"Please help Tetsurou turn back to a human," Kei said simply as he laid the red journal on the table. He didn't waste words easing into his request, solemnly reciting Tetsurou's unfortunate incident with a deity, which led to his current state as stationery. His eyes remained level with the deity before him while his hands were clasped on his lap below the kotatsu. He sat on his knees, feet tucked under his bottom.

(Although Kei had heard from Tetsurou that Kenma was a deity who flouted etiquette, Kei felt it was crucial to abide by them, especially for their first meeting. Without Tetsurou there—as a human—to make introductions, Kei was at a loss, unsure of how he should go about their conversation.)

Kenma's steady eyes and bland face unnerved Kei, like a cat surveying its prey while the prey, despite its alertness, continues its day without knowing where the danger was coming from. Kei likened it to the tension a person would feel when they met their in-laws.

When Kei finished his piece, he fell back into silence, waiting for Kenma's response.

With an air of indolence, Kenma sipped mouthfuls of their green tea, playing with the mug and its coaster. They pondered.

"And what will I gain if I do this for you?"

The journal shifted in protest.

"Excuse me? I mean, isn't Tetsurou your..." Kei's words trailed off.

"Yes, he's a precious person to me," Kenma replied as they took another sip. Their eyes smiled in a coy manner as they maintained eye contact with Kei.

It was a test, Kei realized.

So Kei received it like a student throwing their lot, and exam grade, on the bonus question after spending three torturous hours in confusion.

With utter desperation.

"I'll do anything," Kei professed as he looked at the deity before him. It didn't matter the cost, he had to save Tetsurou.

The deity tilted their head. "Anything?" They echoed.

"Anything." It was like making a deal with the devil, and Kei was willing to walk into a bargain left so open-ended.

The two ignored the restless shuffling on the table. The journal inched back and forth between Kei and Kenma, as if Tetsurou wanted to show his objection to their negotiations, nudging Kenma's arm persistently before giving up and sidling over to Kei's side. Before long, it settled back at the center of the table, silently sulking.

The deity smiled. "Write me something," they said simply.

Kei paused, blinking in surprise. "Excuse me? Do you mean like a story, poem, or..."

"A story told any way you want. Give me 1,000 words."

Kei almost laughed at the absurdity of the request. It was like a college paper. Except Tetsurou's life was on the line.

Kei felt helpless.

"So are we good on the terms? I'm sorta busy," they said, playing on their phone. A cat twitched and stretched itself on their lap before settling in a new position once more.

Kei pursed his lips. Did he have everything?

"My deadline?"

The deity paused and stared up at the ceiling. "Hmm, let's make it a week from today, on December XX, 20XX. Make sure to have it in by 11:59 PM."

"And how am I sending it?"

"Send it to this email." Then the deity rattled their throwaway email.

Kei made sure to commit it to memory, his finger twitching as if he was writing it on paper. He whipped out his phone and typed it into Evernote. The Deadline, email, everything.

"Anything else?"

"No, I think that's it. Just to clarify, if I submit a 1,000-word story to your satisfaction before the Deadline, you'll help Tetsurou."

"That is correct." The deity didn't bother to look up, content to sabotage and kill their crewmates with ease.

The bargain was struck, and Kei returned to the entrance to his lonely apartment via the deity's power.

"Make me feel something. Make me laugh, cry, and scream." The deity's parting words rang in Kei's ears as he entered his home for the first time in two weeks.

//

A small box sat on his counter, wrapped in gold ribbon with a note tucked under the bow. Kei approached it with caution.

He slid out the note.

> Tsukishima Kei,
> 
> A friend once told me to treat the people in my life with kindness. I thought I should get you something in return for the apple pie. Enjoy.
> 
> And happy writing.
> 
> \- K.

Kei placed the note aside and opened the box.

A bewildered laugh bubbled out of him. The deity had gifted him a slice of strawberry shortcake.

The sweet-smelling sponge cake was layered with fresh cream and sliced strawberries. At the top, a beautifully cut strawberry was paired with another dollop of cream, a minimal yet pretty aesthetic. It made Kei's mouth water because this cake came from a Tokyo-based bakery that only opened two or three days per week, one of the many bakeries on Kei's ever-growing list to visit for their strawberry shortcake.

The blond young man eyed the cake for another moment before begrudgingly closing the box once more, placing it on an empty shelf in the fridge.

He had groceries to buy, an apartment to clean up, and a story to write.

Time was already ticking.

It was a Friday night, slightly rowdy as his neighbor below him smoked weed and chatted with his significant other on the balcony. The chatter carried up to his bedroom window, which was slightly ajar to keep the air cool and flowing. Kei had already drawn up the curtains, though the light from the nearest lamppost spilled through the narrow slit between his curtains. The light flickered to and fro, dancing on his ceiling in a mockery of Kei's restlessness.

What bothered him the most was the ticking from the clock that Tetsurou decided to add to the minimalist decor of his bedroom. A clock with cat-shaped ears.

Tick. Tick.

Tick. Tick.

Kei stared at the popcorn ceiling. He fell into an uneasy sleep around 2 AM. To the thoughts of Tetsurou and his awful laugh, the feeling of being a hapless prey to yellow eyes and ticking clocks.

Kei stared at the blank screen, his fingers frozen over the keyboard. Words scrambled through his mind, disjointed and incoherent. Not a single word had been written for three days.

He glanced at the time on his laptop. It was 9:56 PM.

The blank screen taunted him like a persistent opponent across the net. Oh, how Kei wanted to reach through the screen and strangle the document.

Why couldn't the document absorb his thoughts and write itself?

Kei despaired, rubbing his strained eyes.

How did he tell a story? He knew it needed a beginning, middle, and end. It couldn't be cliché and start with "Once upon a time."

He didn't need just a story but one that would move a deity to tears.

Kei's eyes wandered in desperation as he peered out of his bedroom window, into the dark, empty night.

1,000 words to convince the reader to save his beloved.

Kei was a defeatist.

He was not an English major nor a wordsmith. All he had was a biting wit and a love for prehistoric beings.

But he had to save Tetsurou. And he had to convince a bored deity who spent all of their time playing video games to save Tetsurou.

Eloquence was not Kei. But at the very least, he had to make a persuading argument, an articulation that was worthy of Tetsurou's life.

He had to.

He must.

It was 12:01 AM. It was officially the fourth day.

Kei had found himself surfing aimlessly through the internet. At first, he searched for precise words to build his sentences. From Google to dictionaries to a site called RhymeZone for related words.

Two hours had amounted to 200 words, just a fifth of his goal.

Twenty percent completed but only less than half of the time left.

Kei took deep breaths to keep himself calm, inhaling from his nose, exhaling through his mouth.

"It's gonna be okay. You can do this," he muttered with no confidence. "Just make it to 500 words in this sitting and then you can sleep."

Kei stretched, cracked his fingers, and blasted sad music from YouTube. He wrote as if his life depended on it.

It was 2:30 AM when he called it a night and tucked himself to bed, a weighted comforter up to his shoulders. Without the soft melody playing in his ears, Kei found himself an unfortunate company to the clock ticking once more.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

It drowned out the croaking frogs that lived in the man-made ponds outside of his apartment complex, vibrant in nightlife. The incessant clock ticking drove Kei out of the comforts of his warm bed.

He reached up and removed the clock from the wall. Then he took out the batteries, killing the clock at 2:34 AM.

That night, the personification of time haunted his dreams.

Kei was trapped in a twenty-foot hourglass, standing at the bottom as blue sand trickled down like a leaky faucet. The pile of sand grew, touching the Kei's bare feet as he stood close to the edge near the glass barrier. It spilled over his toes, like the ebb and flow of seawater at the beach, glimmering a pretty shade of royal blue. Except it buried his feet, his ankles, and then his calves.

Kei was going to drown. He pushed the glass, hoping to tumble the hourglass on its side. But it refused to budge.

"Somebody, anybody—!"

He slammed the glass in frustration and despair. The sands crept up his thighs.

Then a figure appeared on the other side of the glass: Tetsurou. His boyfriend's face wrinkled in distress as he mouthed words that Kei could not comprehend.

"Can you repeat that?" Kei tried to lipread without much success.

Tetsurou's mouth quirked up slightly. He placed his hands on the glass.

Kei mimicked him, meeting his hands. Only glass separated their hands from touching, warmed from their contact.

It was the closest semblance to Tetsurou since that incident. Kei pressed his forehead on the barrier and closed his eyes to savor the moment. It was just a figment of his imagination, but he needed this.

When Kei opened his eyes, he was on the other side. But Tetsurou had taken his place, inside the damned hourglass, where the blue sands continued to cascade downwards. It was up to his torso.

Kei tried to topple the hourglass. He jumped. He punched the glass with all his might.

Nothing happened. Time continued to march.

For the first time since Tetsurou got turned into a journal, Kei cried.

It seemed like an eternity before Tetsurou lightly banged on the glass to get his attention. He mouthed something, eyes serious. And Kei understood.

'Run.'

So Kei ran, away from the hourglass, from Tetsurou. He ran until whiteness met fields of wheat, damaging the crops with every footstep as the setting sun beat down his shoulders. He traversed the field and came onto an unpaved road. He continued running.

Because Time was coming.

It chased him down a cobblestone path that went on and on, an endless chase that left Kei with burning calves. But Time was persistent, running at a steady clip, never too fast nor too slow. Time was constant. Eventually, Time caught up as Kei was slowing down from exhaustion.

Kei looked over his shoulders and wished he never did.

His left foot tripped over a stone, and he fell onto his knees. Kei felt Time coming to a stop behind him, hovering with its immense presence. But the sight before him gripped his attention. He shuddered as he came face to face with numerous clock faces that ticked away at irregular rhythms. It was a path built from clocks. Small ones, big ones, white ones, red ones...

They jeered at him as Time enveloped him in a suffocating embrace.

"Make me feel something. Make me laugh, cry, and scream."

Kei screamed as he woke up to chirping songbirds and a welcome absence of ticking clocks. It was morning, another day.

If he hid the cat-shaped clock in the lowest drawer of his wardrobe, no one had to know.

//

"Thank you for meeting me on Zoom last minute, Sugawara-senpai," Kei greeted with a grateful smile.

His former upperclassman chuckled, silver hair mussed yet his face glowed on Kei's screen.

"It's no problem. I'll always make time to help my kouhai. So what am I looking for?" Sugawara asked, glancing away from the camera as he scrolled through the document on his screen.

A couple hours ago, Kei had uploaded the document onto Google Drive and shared it with Sugawara. A couple texts later and Sugawara agreed to look over his story.

It was day six, 2:06 PM.

A knot of anxiety weighed in his chest. The past days had taught him something: it was difficult to write a creative work with an impending deadline and life hanging over his head, in comparison to academic writing.

Eking out 500 words that night was painful. With his thoughts on Tetsurou, Kei took a leap of faith and drank a bottle of champagne, popping his alcohol virginity.

It was all for the sake of writing, he thought, as he poured himself another glass.

By the time he had finished the bottle, he was unafraid to acknowledge that the alcohol had also been for himself as well.

It was a poor attempt at emulating Ernest Hemingway, but the alcohol did its job and Kei typed away on his laptop rapidly.

He edited it after he got over his hangover with some Tylenol.

Somehow, he had written 1,101 words.

"Hmm..." Sugawara read through the story with a careful eye. He paused at times to make suggestions on the document, editing over innocuous grammar errors that Kei had overlooked.

"It's actually a beautiful story," Sugawara said at last, blinking furiously. "It has such a depressing ending despite the cheerful bits here and there. The main character has quite a dark humor, which sort of reminds me of you." He laughed as he grabbed something behind the camera. His hand entered the camera view with a tissue.

"Do you think it's emotionally moving? Are there any areas where I could improve on?" Kei prompted.

Sugawara tilted his head, reminiscent of the deity. Kei almost shuddered.

"What is this for? I mean, I don't mind helping you but maybe I'll be able to help you better if I know the prompt." Sugawara smiled sheepishly, tugging on a lock of hair. "Is this for a program or something?"

"Or something." Kei shifted in his sitting position on the floor. "I'd rather not explain, but I was asked to write a 1,000-word story that could emotionally move a god to save someone."

Sugawara scrutinized him. Despite the physical distance between the two, Kei could not help but feel as if he was being scolded.

"Well, alright," Sugawara conceded. "Here's what you can do if you want to grip the reader's emotions..."

Kei sighed and listened with rapt attention.

Sugawara was the best person to go to.

That night, he cooked a hearty meal of steak with sautéed vegetables on the side. It was a celebratory dinner of his successful progress. He ate it with gusto, the flavors and textures melted in his mouth. But it was a meal in solitude. No words were said. It was just Kei and his food at the dining table for two under the soft yellow light.

The food would have tasted better with his usual company. Using his phone as a suitable distraction, Kei quietly finished his dinner and washed the dishes.

With a warm cup of tea in his hands, Kei gazed at his story with a sober eye.

He tore it into pieces methodically.

Then he reconstructed it on a new document.

Bit by bit, the story came together.

He was not Tetsurou, who spent his free hours writing fanfiction and publishing it on AO3 for everyone to see. Nor was he Sugawara with his creative writing accolades, awarded at such a young age. Kei had always admired Sugawara's beautiful yet haunting prose.

He was none of that, just a voracious reader who happened to have the pen thrust into his hand by fate. Like the girl who poured her soul into a diary, Kei offered his everything to the story.

He had to prove his worth to Kenma.

Kei stared at the computer screen, eye bags pronounced on his face. Ensuring that the email was flawless, and the story was properly attached as a file, he clicked 'send.'

It was an anticlimactic finish to his journey to save his boyfriend.

Frogs croaked a victory hymn as Kei slumped at his desk, relieved of stress.

All he had to do was wait.

He did everything he could, right?

It was 10:34 PM when Kei submitted his story. He entered the covers of his bed at 11:15 PM.

Celebrating with extra sleep sounded enticing.

//

It was 10:36 PM when Kenma read the email. They sipped their cooling tea as they downloaded the attachment.

Tap. Tap.

A fleeting smile came and went. Kenma nudged open the notebook that laid next to their laptop, scrawling something down on an empty page.

"Your boyfriend must love you a lot, Kuro."

Footsteps approached from behind. "Oh? What makes you say that?"

Tetsurou leaned forward, trying to peek at Kenma's laptop.

Kenma batted him away. "This is private. Stop looking."

Tetsurou pouted. "But isn't it a story about me? I think I deserve to know, right? I want to see what Kei has been writing."

Kenma clicked their tongue. "Do you want me to turn you back into a journal?"

It was an empty threat and both of them knew it.

11:59 PM passed, the minute hand inching away from the 59th line in a routine fashion. There was no spectacular exclamation for Kei's triumph.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

The second hand continued to march onward, a relentless cog in man-made machinery.

For Kenma, a week was less than a blink of an eye.

Humans existed on their own timeline, separate from deities. Since human time was so short, every moment was savored in its ephemerality. Kenma couldn't understand this feeling. How could time be measured in minutes and seconds instead of centuries and decades?

As a deity, their odd friendship with Kuro was bound to end with death and tragedy. Because Kenma could easily outlive a human's lifespan.

Kenma's eyes flickered and dimmed at the prospects that awaited them. They glanced sideways at Kuro, who doodled away on a scrap of paper, a yawn forcing its way up to his mouth.

But Tsukishima Kei could spend his life at Kuro's side. And he would.

Kei fell into a dreamless sleep for the first time that week. Wrapped in a cocoon of warmth as someone caressed his hair, soothing him with words that he could not understand. It was calming. Ah, he wanted to stay in that moment for a while longer.

It was some time after midnight when he was roused to consciousness. A heavy, yet familiar weight draped over his body on his small bed. Messy black hair called to him from the corner of his eye. With a glance, Kei fell asleep once more, a small smile on his lips.

He was back.

The night passed easily as the two slept in each other’s arms.

Kei woke up in his bed, alone. Was last night a dream? No. He swept his arm to the side, feeling the residual heat that Tetsurou left behind. Kei stared at the morning sunlight that dotted the ceiling, his lips curling into a smile. His nightmarish week was finally over.

The smell of butter and scrambled eggs seeped into the room. Knowing that someone was cooking breakfast made Kei sit up and get ready.

Kei padded into the kitchen after using the bathroom, his slippers shuffling over the tiled floor.

"Oh, Kei, you're up! Breakfast is almost ready. I'm making scrambled eggs and avocado toast."

Tetsurou stood at the stove, an apron tied over his pajamas, his hair more mussed than usual. A pile of scrambled eggs sat on a large plate on the counter, slightly steaming. Tetsurou used the remaining grease to toast two slices of bread on the pan.

Kei gave into his urge to touch his partner. Just this once. He came up behind Tetsurou and wrapped his arms around his torso, resting his head on Tetsurou's left shoulder. Kei soaked in Tetsurou's presence and warmth, so tangible under his body. He inhaled his smell.

"Welcome back, Tetsurou."

Kei could feel the reverberations of his boyfriend's laughter.

"I'm home!"

**Author's Note:**

> this fic has been an accumulation of the stress from grad school deadlines, family drama, and my strange but very real aversion to ticking clocks. moving back home has been a struggle, especially since i’ve grown really independent while living away from family. above all, i hope you enjoyed reading this fic. if you can, please leave a comment of your thoughts. (no concrit please) i’d love to hear from you （＾∇＾）


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